Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [99]
Now he entered the premises with caution. The state of the showroom hadn’t changed. Crude constructions blocked a straightforward view to the back of the store, where a great commotion was taking place. He used his ears instead of his eyes to locate his target. As he listened to the rowdy boys, he wished again that he had his sword.
Bealomondore edged through the obstacles. A clutch of boys shouted at Porky and at each other. He knew he was close and crept carefully to avoid being detected. Straining to hear Porky’s part in the drama, he could not distinguish his childish voice. Then he heard a thud and a grunt and the cruel laughter of a bully. Without thought, he jumped from behind the counter with his hand up in the air.
“Stop!” he commanded.
And he realized that his hand was not empty. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the Sword of Valor. The brats circling Porky on the floor turned startled faces to the tumanhofer. He grinned and swished the rapier through the air. In the form of a long, slender blade, it made a wicked sound.
Bealomondore glared confidently. He wanted the boys to think he was in control and not in the least bit flummoxed by being outnumbered. The state of his sword bothered him as well. This blade was designed to pierce the chest and stab the heart. He’d rather have the blunt, broad blade suitable for paddling. But Bealomondore advanced, swishing his weapon, which had never appeared out of nowhere before, and grinning like a madman.
The boys backed up a step or two, all but Yawn.
Bealomondore stopped and regarded the six-year-old, whose thrust-out chin displayed his defiant attitude.
Bealomondore sneered. “Do I take you on one at a time or all at once?”
The scalawags who’d stepped back deserted their leader with hoots of fear and scrambling feet. Yawn glanced to both sides and saw that he was alone save the poor beaten boy curled on the floor. He licked his lips, clenched his fists, and tried to stare Bealomondore in the eye.
“You can go,” said the tumanhofer. “There’s no shame in walking away from a fight that makes no sense.”
Yawn puffed out his chest, lifted his chin, and glared at Bealomondore. “This isn’t the end of this.” He turned and marched out, following the route of his mates.
Bealomondore looked at the hilt of the shining sword. Among the gems along the guard, words etched an axiom: “Show them strength, and you may not need to show them your prowess.” He wasn’t surprised to find the sword’s scabbard attached to his belt. He put the long blade into the leather case and pushed it all the way in. Then he knelt next to Porky. The boy rolled toward him, and he took the shuddering child in his arms.
Porky let out one sob. “I didn’t tell them where you were.” He had to gasp for breath. “And I didn’t cry.”
Tears threatened to disgrace Bealomondore. He leaned his cheek against the boy’s head and held him closer. “We’ll take care of you, Porky. Laddin will be here soon, and he’ll make you feel better. Where does it hurt the most?”
“My eye.”
Bealomondore looked at the battered flesh on Porky’s face. The left eye had swollen shut, and discoloration showed how severe the bruising would be. “It’ll be fine. Laddin will fix it.”
“My belly hurts too. Yawn kicked me.”
Bealomondore bit back the fury that rose like a crashing ocean wave. Fortunate for the bullies that they had already fled. Bealomondore put his hand on the urohm boy’s stomach.
“I’m sorry, Porky. I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”
“I hurt so bad. Am I gonna die?”
“No, no. Laddin will heal you. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll be fine. Tomorrow you won’t feel any different than you did yesterday.”
“Then I’ll be scared. ’Cause yesterday I was scared.”
“Scared of Yawn and his gang?”
Porky grunted and Bealomondore took it as a yes. He mumbled and Bealomondore leaned closer. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I used to be scared of dying, but now I’m not.” Porky moved cautiously, as if to get into a more comfortable position. He